yanked the door closed, blocking Rafe’s view of the rumpled bed and the rest of the messy room.
He didn’t seem to notice. He adjusted her thermostat to his satisfaction and turned to go back into the living room. Lauren followed, noting in relief that he was finally heading to the door.
He waited in her tiny foyer for her to catch up. When she reached his side, Lauren took a deep breath to restore her composure, and said in as calm a voice as she could manage, “Thank you for driving me home.”
“You’re welcome,” he responded, his tone as solemn as hers. “Do you want to go to bed?”
Lauren gasped, her startled gaze flying to meet his. “No! I mean, yes. I mean—I’ll do that—just as soon as you leave.”
Unholy amusement lit his dark eyes. Lauren’s face burned hotter than ever. Of course he hadn’t meant the question the way that it had sounded. As if he was planning to go to bed with her. What was wrong with her today?
Instinctively, she lifted her hands to cover her red cheeks, then yanked them down again as she realized she was still holding her bra. She whipped it behind her back again, shutting her eyes in embarrassment. Rafe would tease the life out of her now—he loved to tease every chance he got—and, heaven knew, she’d just given him plenty of ammunition. She lifted her lashes and stared up at him in dread, waiting mutely for him to start.
But he didn’t. Maybe it was the apprehension on her face or maybe he took pity on her because he thought she had the flu. Maybe he simply remembered Mr. Haley was probably waiting back at the office.
Whatever the reason, Rafe merely told her, “Well, I’m leaving now, so go climb in between the sheets.”
He reached for the doorknob, then paused. He turned back to face her and tilted up her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “And forget about coming into work on Monday if you still feel sick. That’s an order, Lauren.”
He released her and left. Lauren bolted the door behind him and sagged against it in relief, her skin still tingling from his touch.
Rafe was still chuckling to himself as he strode down the hall to his office. He’d never seen Lauren so flustered. What a kick she could be sometimes, getting all upset and embarrassed simply because she’d left a bra out. Did she think he’d never seen one before?
He forgot about Lauren’s amusing modesty, though, when he entered his office to find the president of the firm waiting. Kane Haley was sitting on the edge of Rafe’s desk, his broad shoulders hunched as he frowned down at a paper in his hand.
Rafe shrugged out of his overcoat, tossing it on the rack by the door, then moved forward to greet the other man. “Kane—have you been waiting long? Didn’t you get my message?”
“That’s why I waited,” his boss replied, rising to his feet. “How’s Lauren?”
“Lauren?” Rafe shrugged, faintly surprised by the question. “She’s sick, as I said.”
Kane looked back down at the paper, and Rafe realized it was his own scrawled message that the other man was holding. “You say here,” Kane said, “that she has a stomachache.”
“She does.” Surely Kane didn’t think Lauren had lied simply to go home early? “She wasn’t faking, if that’s what you think.”
“I don’t.” Kane dropped the slip of paper down on the desk. He paced to the window—skirting the trash can that Rafe had left in the middle of the carpet—and stood silently for a long moment, looking out at the view. Then he drew a deep breath, and turned, meeting Rafe’s eyes.
“What I think,” Kane said slowly, “is that Lauren might be pregnant.”
Chapter Three
“Pregnant?” Rafe stared at the other man in disbelief. Lauren? His secretary Lauren—pregnant? “Where on earth did you get a crazy idea like that?”
“You said in your note her stomach was bothering her.”
“Yeah, so—”
“Has she been tired a lot? Fatigued in the mornings? Has she seemed moody at all?”
Rafe paused, his chest tightening. She had seemed more serious and distracted lately. Even kind of droopy at times. His voice sharpened, “Yeah, but she’s probably picked up that flu bug that’s been going around.”
Kane frowned. “Did she seem to have any other flu symptoms? A headache? Fever?”
Rafe remembered how cool Lauren’s hands had felt and the pale color of her cheeks—before she’d blushed so furiously, that was. Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t appeared to have any other flu symptoms. Could she be—?
Ridiculous. Hell, what was he thinking?
“That certainly doesn’t mean she’s pregnant.” Exasperated with himself as well as Kane for considering the idea, even for a second, Rafe gave a short laugh. “Lauren’s not even dating anyone. Who’s supposed to have fathered this mythical child?”
“Me.”
The whole conversation—odd from the beginning—suddenly made sense to Rafe. Too much sense.
His jaw tightened. He’d always liked Kane. Had found him to be an intelligent and fair man to work for. And he knew the guy had a pretty active social life. But to do something like this….
Rafe’s voice lowered to a deceptively even tone. “Are you saying,” he asked carefully, “that you’ve slept with Lauren?”
“Hell, no!” Kane looked shocked, then honestly appalled. “I’ve never even touched the woman.” He met Rafe’s hard gaze, and his own narrowed in response. “So if you’re thinking of trying to throw a punch at me, you can just forget it.”
Until that moment, Rafe hadn’t realized he’d assumed a fighting stance, with his fists clenched and his legs braced aggressively. “Hell.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “If you didn’t sleep with her, then how could she be having your baby?”
“She might not be—at least, I’m not sure….” Kane paced across the carpet to stare unseeingly out the window again. “The fact of the matter is, someone at this firm is pregnant with my child. All I’m trying to do is find out who she is.”
The silence stretched. Then Kane turned around. He studied Rafe’s expression a second, and a smile twisted his mouth. “Don’t look at me like that either. I’m not insane—not yet, anyway,” he said wryly. His expression turned grim again. “Do you remember my friend—Bill Jeffers? The one who had cancer?”
Rafe raised his brows at the sudden change of subject, but nodded. Yeah, he remembered Jeffers. The guy hadn’t been much older than he himself—or Kane for that matter.
“When Bill first found out he was sick,” Kane continued, “he decided to go to the Lakeside Reproductive Clinic to make a sperm deposit to ensure that if the radiation treatment affected him adversely, he could still have kids. I went along with him to provide support and a—well, a back-up
